


Canine Country

by mthrfkrgdhrwego (universalchampbalor)



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Demon Finn Balor | Prince Devitt, IGNORE MY DUMBB TITLES OKAY, M/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Supernatural Elements, almost, dean's a werewolf and no one can convince me otherwise, this is just Balor being an asshole tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:07:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/universalchampbalor/pseuds/mthrfkrgdhrwego
Summary: I'm tonyknees on tumblr! Come bug me!





	Canine Country

The full moon, and the week leading up to it, is always the worst time of the month. The winter months are bad as well, leaving the moon hanging in the sky for longer and longer, cutting short any form of refuge to be found.

It’s storming, lightning cracking through the sky with enough aggression to cause Dean’s hair to stand on end. Rain is pelting the windows of the run-down diner they’re huddled in, and it gives him something to focus on.

Everything is too much.

His clothes feel wrong on his skin and his leather jacket feels heavy in the wrong way. He can hear everything around him with startling clarity- Bayley and Asuka talking quietly on the other side of the diner, Seth laughing, Cesaro complaining about the crappy coffee they’re stuck with. He can smell everyone’s cologne and perfume and laundry detergent and he can smell the ink under Roman’s skin and he can practically  _ taste _ the silver of Corey’s piercings even though Corey’s nowhere near him.

He’s secluded away in the corner away from the windows, feet on the opposite seat the deter anyone from sitting near him. His bag is next to him and he’s taking up as much space as he can while still staying  _ away. _ He must look like a madman, which can’t hurt. Still, it’s not enough space, and he can hear the pounding of blood through veins and he’s not going to make it through this without hurting someone.

He doesn’t notice his lengthened nails digging into his arm until a hand grips his own.

His head shoots up and he  _ snarls _ , upper lip pulled back to reveal too-long canines protruding from his aching jaw. It doesn’t deter the intruder, who Dean belatedly realizes is Finn. He sits across from him, pushing Dean’s feet into the corner of the booth. He keeps his hand on Dean’s, ignoring the bite of the younger man’s nails into his skin.

Finn’s got a smile that Dean can only describe as  _ feral _ , too many teeth and a too long tongue coming to wet his lips, which are an unnatural shade of  _ red _ . His eyes seem a little dark, a little red around the edges, a little too hungry. Something’s wrong.

“Nice night, huh? You enjoying the full moon?” Finn asks, voice dark and rough in the base of his throat. No, not Finn’s voice, Bálor’s voice, coming from the pit of Finn’s stomach.

Dean grits his fangs. “Full moon’s not until tomorrow.” He grinds out, ignoring the saliva pooling under his tongue. He can  _ smell _ the Demon, acrid smoke and brimstone and  _ suffering _ burning his oversensitive nostrils. “Get away from me.” He doesn’t sound like himself, and he doesn’t sound like the wolf- he sounds  _ desperate. _

Bálor laughs. It’s a low sound, wet, like a knife dragging over stone. It hurts Dean’s brain. “Now why would I do that? You can’t hurt me.” It’s almost taunting, staring past Dean and into the wolf begging to be let out. It’s playing with fire.

Dean rolls his neck, tries to alleviate the pressure from his shifting bones. He can’t fully shift, not yet, but his body’ll try until he’s left mangled and crying for the full moon. His nails are getting uncomfortably long, and his teeth can barely fit in his mouth. He growls, a guttural sound that sends shivers down his own spine.

Bálor laughs. “Oh, you’re not having a fun time, are you? Too far, can’t shift?” It asks, but there’s no sympathy in Its voice. Instead, there’s malice, poison, enough spite that Dean can  _ feel _ it pressed to his too-tight skin. “Come with me.”

Bálor stands, and Dean is powerless. He can’t help but follow even though he wants nothing more than to  _ attack _ . It’s like Bálor has a spell on him, keeping him submissive and under control. Dean hates it.

They head outside, into the storm. The sidewalk is abandoned, every smart soul in town locked inside and waiting it out. No one’s ever accused them of being smart, though, so they stand in silence. The rain feels sharp on Dean’s skin, painful, and there are too many scents that his nose wants to pick up and follow.

Bálor must notice his agitation, his restlessness, because a too-strong grip wraps itself around Dean’s wrist. It’s grounding, in a way, to feel the callouses of Finn’s hands and the Demon’s strength biting into Dean’s arm. It’s right in his face, too close and somehow still too far. It grins, a smile that reveals just too many teeth and sends shivers down Dean’s spine.

The wolf whines in his chest.

“You’re trying to hold back a wild animal.” Bálor’s voice feels like a knife splitting every nerve ending, lips pressed to his ear. Suddenly, the only thing Dean can smell is fire and pain. It’s crowding his senses, he realizes, trying to distract him.

“You’ll never succeed in trying to hold the wolf back.” It continues, closing in on Dean. They’re practically chest-to-chest now, and Its skin  _ burns _ like a brand. “You need to  _ relax _ .” Its voice dips an octave, low and sultry and  _ rough _ . “You can’t turn, at least not right now. So, stop  _ fighting it. _ ” The cold rain has nothing to do with the goosebumps trailing across his skin.

Dean’s breath is dragging out of his lungs and he finds himself unable to speak. His legs feel weak and it’s not because of his shifting bones. Bálor’s  _ getting _ to him, somehow, making his resolve crumble. His claws tangle in Bálor’s shirt, holding onto It like It’s a lifeline. And It is, in a weird way. It’s the only thing keeping Dean from losing his fucking mind.

Bálor holds Dean up, and the part of Dean’s mind that isn’t going delirious from the moon (or maybe the part that  _ is _ ) realizes that this feels oddly romantic. There’s rain pouring down around them and it’s soaking through their clothes and plastering Finn’s hair to his forehead and Bálor looks  _ gorgeous. _

Dean crashes their lips together, a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and no technique, but it’s everything Dean never knew he needed and  _ more. _ His mouth is burning and Bálor’s teeth are sinking low into his lip and drawing blood and Dean can’t do anything but  _ whimper _ .

Bálor pulls away, and Dean’s heart stops in his chest. Its hair is mussed and Its teeth and lips are stained  _ red _ with Dean’s blood. It looks sated, satisfied, but also like it wants more. It’s  _ hungry _ .

Dean sinks to his knees there in the street.

Bálor looks at him with an unidentifiable glint in Its eyes. It looks amused, like It’s been expecting this, like It isn’t going to stop Dean. And It doesn’t, lets him sink down until his knees are pressed to the rough, wet pavement. It doesn’t stop him when his clawed fingers awkwardly fumble Its zipper and force Its pants down to Its knees. It does stop him, however, when he reaches for the waistband of Its underwear.

Dean whines, nosing at the Demon’s excitement. He’s salivating, and it can’t be blamed on the moon any longer. Bálor makes a gesture with Its hand, and Dean stands. It fixes Its pants back over Its hips and tsks Its tongue at Dean.

“Distraction is important, but I’d rather not get arrested.” It purrs, the talons of Its left hand curling at the base of Dean’s skull. Absently, in the back of his mind, Dean realizes that his bones are in a more normal position. They’re not fixed, not yet, but they’re close enough to where they should be that he can stand. “Maybe later.” The Demon adds with a wink.

Bálor leads Dean back inside the diner. They’re both sopping wet, and Dean’s definitely going to be sick on top of turning, but for some reason, he can’t be bothered to care. He slumps back into his corner booth, and realizes that his senses have dulled back down to their usual levels. It’s still heightened, and he can still hear Bayley across the diner, but it’s not...overwhelming anymore.

Bálor sits across from him with a self-satisfied grin. Its teeth seem to be at a more normal quantity, and Its tongue seems back to normal as well as it slides across his bottom lip. Its eyes are back to being a crystal blue, almost startlingly bright.

It’s not Bálor, it’s Finn.

“Are you better now?” Finn asks, sliding his hand out to grab Dean’s. Dean doesn’t pull away even though it feels like he’s been stabbed. He nods quietly, barely-sharp teeth worrying at his lip. The smile he gets in return is soft, almost loving. There’s no trace of the Demon left.

After he changes two nights later, Bálor takes him apart and leaves him wrecked before finally putting him back together again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm tonyknees on tumblr! Come bug me!


End file.
